


The Ace

by notaliteraltoad



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Death, Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4255704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaliteraltoad/pseuds/notaliteraltoad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're as old as Ace, you start to have doubts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ace

They were half lives; doomed to die at young ages. The only chance for them was to die in battle, to open the gates and spent an eternity in Valhalla.

Ace was a war boy. A half life. So why did he keep on going when everyone around him was getting sicker by the day? He had tumours - most of them did. And while they got bigger and made his breathing raspy and short, they weren’t terminal.

He watched his best friend die not long after the Immortan’s rule began. He had died at eight thousand days; passed away in his sleep. Painless. But he wouldn’t have made it to Valhalla, dying soft.

Seven hundred days later another friend died, screaming ‘witness!’ as his car went up in flames, the smoke billowing up and blocking out the sun.  
From that day on, Ace was alone. He tried to be friends with the other boys, but it wasn’t the same. The three of them had been through everything together - he would never find friends like that again.

Time passed, and every day Ace thought it could be his last. All around him, war boys gave their lives to Immortan Joe, willingly and gleefully. He joined in with shouts of ‘witness him’ and ‘mediocre’ if a death wasn’t a good show. He enjoyed it - this was what they were meant for; to die gloriously in battle.

But the more death he saw, the more Ace realised it wasn’t glorious. He had seen dozens of boys die in dozens of different ways. Burned, crushed, stabbed, shot. Days came where he didn’t shout anymore, didn’t crane his neck to see which lucky bastard had given himself to Valhalla. While boys jeered and screamed around him, he silently held up his hands in the sign if V8, hoping their afterlife was real and not just a mistake.

He was old, far older than any other war boy and he didn’t know why he had made it this far. Everyone he knew was gone. It was just him, alone to think and doubt and wonder if Immortan Joe was really the saviour he claimed to be. Was Valhalla even real?

And then he was assigned to Furiosa, Immortan Joe’s favourite Imperator. Ace liked the way she was blunt and managed to keep the boys in line. He was their mentor, but she was the one who enforced the rules.

He never voiced his doubts, except for one quiet evening as he fixed Furiosa’s rig. He told her he had seen more death than she could imagine, that it was sad and painful and not wonderful like the boys believed. She said she knew. Valhalla was bullshit and death did not bring glory.

It made it all the more real, coming from someone of status.

It was never mentioned again. They carried on as normal.

Then an unusual thing happened. It was a normal day, on a normal journey to Gas Town. But Furiosa went off road, and he knew something was wrong. She wouldn’t tell him what.

He saw more death that day than any other, and his believes that Immortan Joe was not what he seemed were set in stone. While everyone cheered for Morsov as he plunged, thunder sticks in hand, towards an enemy car, Ace bowed his head, feeling the emptiness inside his chest grow with every second. He came to resent the word ‘mediocre’.

He was in the thick of the fight, not knowing what was happening. He was confused. Angry. At Furiosa for betraying Immortan Joe and himself for having these pointless doubts.

He knew his time was up, and he was almost relieved. He felt himself lose his grip on the side of the rig, old joints and muscles screaming in protest. He fell; didn’t call out to be witnessed.

He didn’t know what happened, just felt searing pain in his legs as they crumpled beneath him. His head felt fuzzy and dull, filled with lead. There was a lot of blood. He could barely see it; didn’t want to anyway.

As he felt himself drift in an out of consciousness he had one thought; now he would find out if Valhalla was real. If there was a point to throwing your life away. As his eyes slipped closed and his mind went black, he felt only emptiness.


End file.
